Shades of Grey
by Erika
Summary: I can explain it all I want, tell them why I did it, but they'll kill me all the same. They won't understand. They'll only see the black and white – the lies and betrayal. They’ll never see the shades of grey.


Hi everyone, once again I'm offering a couple of stories I wrote before HBP but never posted. "Shades of Grey" and "Fragments of a Life" are very similar in that they cover the same events but are told differently. I wrote "Shades of Grey" first but I'm posting them together. They're not my usual Sirius & Remus centric fic but hopefully some of you will enjoy them anyway.**  
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**Title:** Shades of Grey

**Author:** Erika

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** "I can explain it all I want, tell them why I did it, but they'll kill me all the same. They won't understand. They'll only see the black and white – the lies and betrayal. They'll never see the shades of grey."

**Timeframe:** It covers bits and pieces of the Marauders' time at Hogwarts and ends just before James and Lily are killed.

**Spoilers:** For PoA, OotP

**Category:** POV

**Disclaimers:** Hogwarts and all of its characters belong to JK Rowling, I'm only borrowing them to have a little fun and I promise to return them unharmed (well, at least mostly unharmed 0). I'm making no money from this and this is written for entertainment purposes only.

**Feedback:** Both positive feedback and _constructive_ criticism are greatly appreciated and will be cherished!

**Archive:** Please ask first. )

**Author's Note: **This is definitely something I never thought I'd write, especially considering that Peter isn't a character I'm too interested in, but when a plot bunny bites it's hard to ignore. Sorry it's so long and repetitive. It wasn't supposed to be. It was actually only supposed to be a couple of pages long but it sort of started writing itself and developed a mind of its own.

**Shades of Grey**

**Peter:**

When I first met James and Sirius I never thought that I would be as good friends with them as they obviously were with each other. They were inseparable and I knew that no one could ever intrude on that. It didn't matter, though. They were brilliant, funny, and good at everything. I was happy just to be accepted by them. That Remus had apparently been accepted by them as well was of little consequence to me. He was too quiet and withdrawn for my tastes but he was obviously okay by James and Sirius so I didn't care. All that mattered was that I, the outsider who had constantly been teased, was friends with the two coolest blokes at school.

I was ecstatic. Ecstatic enough to ignore how often they 'playfully' ridiculed me. As long as they included me in their forays and pranks, I didn't care how often they called me stupid or useless. I just took it as part of what it meant to be their friend. What they did to everyone else was worse. The hexes they used against our classmates were powerful, hilarious…and humiliating. It was fantastic to watch but I never would have wanted to be on the receiving end of their bullying. Being their friend, regardless of how often they made fun of me, was much better. After all, how many people were invited when James and Sirius decided to explore the castle or raid the kitchen? Just me…and Remus.

And therein lay the problem. It was difficult to accept their treatment of me when they didn't do or say any of the same things to Remus. Of course they teased and played the occasional prank on him. I will never forget the look on his face when, one night while we were getting ready for bed, his pajamas turned to ice. Nor will I forget his outraged tone when he demanded that James and Sirius reverse the charm. Which they did…eventually, once they were able to stop laughing long enough to actually say the counter-charm.

It wasn't the same, though. When they did those kinds of things to Remus it was never because they were bored and wanted to amuse themselves. Naturally they enjoyed it but they were always laughing because of Remus' reaction, not because they were being cruel or uncaring. If they had thought, even for a second, that it truly bothered him, they would have stopped. Remus, after all, laughed just as hard as the rest of us when they finally changed his pajamas back into cloth. The one time he obviously disliked a prank they pulled on him, they apologized profusely and _meant it_.

Proving their ingenuity once again, James and Sirius modified a charm we had just learned in class. It was only supposed to make the muscles in someone's body go limp. They, somehow, changed it so that Remus' muscles went limp _and_ responded to the movement of their wands. So, with a flick of their wrists they were able to control the motion of his arms and legs.

It was _hysterical_. They had Remus waving his arms vigorously, kicking at nothing, jumping up and down, walking into walls, and (lightly) hitting himself. The three of us were laughing so hard that we could barely breathe. When it became apparent, however, that Remus was _angry_, they immediately released him. He didn't tell us _why_ it irritated him and it didn't matter. It was enough that it did.

Remus wasn't even loud in his anger. His normally quiet voice remained so as he told them, tone strained, to never do anything like that to him again. James and Sirius exchanged uncomfortable looks but were too surprised to say anything. Disappointed and…shaken, Remus left the room. Hours later, when he returned, James and Sirius told him they were sorry, that they wouldn't have done it if they had thought it would bother him. Sirius, in particular, fervently expressed his sincere regret.

They _never_ did the same for me. When they pulled a prank on me it wasn't to enjoy my reaction. It was something they did because I was 'stupid' and couldn't stop them. It was as if they thought, 'see how slow Peter is, see how we can do anything we want to him?' It made them feel better about themselves to know they were so much better than me. They never stopped, though. Even when it obviously bothered me, they never stopped. If I seemed annoyed they just told me not to be a spoilsport.

Something they also never did to Remus was insult him. They never put him down. Although he wasn't nearly as smart as they were, even though he struggled to understand concepts that came easily to them, they never called _him_ 'slow' or 'thick'. They understand that he was doing his best and didn't tease him about always studying and wanting to do well. Sirius even went out of his way to help him in and out of class. Whereas he often _told_ me what to do, he tried to make sure Remus _understood_ the material.

I constantly wondered what the difference between us was. Why was Remus treated better than me? What did he do to deserve such consideration when I was constantly being mocked? And why didn't they realize that they didn't treat me the same? Because they _didn't_ seem to realize. They made me feel horrible while saying I was one of them. It would have been easier if the _did_ realize. Their ignorance could only mean one thing – they didn't care to realize. It annoyed me. It annoyed me but I was able to more or less accept it after a while. I might have ranked last in our group of four but at least I was part of it.

If that had been all, it would have been okay. I would have been able to deal with it. It wasn't though. It wasn't.

They not only treated him better, they cared for him more. Well…not so much James as Sirius. Sirius, who would wake Remus from his nightmares, Sirius who would show such concern for his wellbeing, Sirius who was so desperate to learn why Remus disappeared once a month and returned pale and tired. _James' _concern was more an extension of Sirius'. If something was important to his best friend then it was important to him as well.

It only got worse when it came out that Remus was a _werewolf_. Sirius was the first to discover it though he didn't tell us, causing some friction between James and him. James knew that Sirius was hiding something. It wasn't until awhile later, having grown tried of the secrecy, that he voiced what he had perhaps been thinking for some time. Turning to Remus, he demanded to know if he was a werewolf, demanded it in such a harsh tone that Remus balked and Sirius flinched.

It was then that my patience began to break because it was then that Sirius actually stood between Remus and James and defended the former against what he thought was his best friend's unfounded hate. In one moment he disproved what I had believed so steadfastly from the very beginning: that no one could intrude on their friendship.

The situation diffused before it truly became a situation. James, surprised at how both Sirius and Remus had misinterpreted the emotion in his voice, assured them that he didn't care. It didn't matter to him that Remus was a werewolf; it only bothered him that Sirius hadn't told him. Sirius reminded James that it was never his secret to reveal and, after a moment of silence, he agreed. Then, as if to prove his good intentions, he assured Remus that he would do everything he could to help. And so, everything was okay again. At least it was assumed to be. It was just taken for granted that I would have no problem with Remus because wherever James and Sirius led, I would follow.

It wasn't okay, though. It was far too late for that. Not because he was a werewolf – which _did_ bother me at first – but because of what Sirius did. As long as I believed that James and Sirius were inseparable, that they would never let anyone past a certain point, I was okay being the brunt of their jokes. But when Sirius was ready to leap to Remus' defense, to take someone's side against his best mate, that changed everything. It meant that it wasn't impossible for someone to get close to one of them, wasn't impossible to be an equal friend.

It seemed impossible for me, though.

I didn't understand. Why Remus? Remus was a _werewolf_ and yet he was more important to both of them than I was. _Why_? Why did they accept him and not me? Because I realized then that they didn't _accept_ me – they _tolerated_ me. They tolerated me enough to let me hang around their little group but not be a part of it. Half the time it was as if I wasn't even there. Half the time they seemed to forget my presence. They were always planning things without my input and when I joined them it was as if I was merely tagging along.

For a long time – such a long time – I tried to breach the gap. I tried to be everything they wanted me to be, do everything they wanted me to do. When James and Sirius started researching how to become Animagi, I was right beside them, pretending to be as excited and willing to help Remus as they were. In my eagerness to please them, I offered to take the form of a rat so that I would be small enough to reach the notch in the Whomping Willow. I took their jeers and jibes regarding how poor I was at the transfiguration. I even let them give me the name 'Wormtail' and acted as if I liked it.

It didn't work, though. They still insulted me, still made sure I knew how useless and unimportant I was. I tried to fool myself into thinking that it didn't really matter, that it didn't really bother me, but lies only have so much power when you know they're not true. There came a point when I couldn't delude myself anymore, couldn't pretend that it didn't _hurt_ to see how close James and Sirius were, to see how close Sirius and Remus were, and know I had no place in that. They each had someone they trusted implicitly, someone they could turn to no matter what happened. I didn't have anyone.

I tried to ignore it. I did everything in my power to ignore it. While James was busy chasing Lily and Remus busy believing that he couldn't get involved with someone who didn't know and accept what he was, I lost myself in any number of meaningless relationships. There, in the closeness of bodies, in the heat of tangled touches and dancing lips and tongues, the momentary but inescapable ecstasy would wipe my mind of worry. Those rendezvous couldn't give me what I was searching for, though. Sex and caring aren't the same thing and I never could quite deceive myself into thinking they were. Far from filling the emptiness inside me, the hole grew with each fleeting tryst.

Alcohol did little to numb the pain or depression. For a few brief hours they would fade, lost in a haze of giddy sensation, but the turning of the planet can't be stopped and morning always follows night. The sun would rise on reality, harsh and unforgiving. With the pounding of my head and the intrusion of a world that was dark and unsteady, the pain and depression would only deepen.

When Remus took longer than usual recovering from a transformation, James and Sirius were beside themselves with worry. I would return at all hours of the night, disheveled clothes reeking of cheap liquor, and they never noticed. Did they honestly think that I was studying? Were they blind? It wasn't until I slipped up and ran out of the detoxification potion that they saw anything out of the ordinary. It was early in the morning; we were getting ready for breakfast. Remus was the first to notice I was hung over. Quickly, he and the others surrounded me, wanting to know what was going on. And so I told them. I told them that the girl I'd been 'studying' with had offered me the alcohol. Curious, I'd had a little.

Feebly, I joked that I obviously couldn't hold my liquor. Inside, I was screaming for them to hear the lie. _Please, you have to see that this isn't true; you have to see that I'm dying here. You can't just accept this._ Because if they _did_ accept it then I'd know, know beyond the shadow of any doubt, that I was right, that they didn't care. If they cared they'd see. They _would_ see. They had to.

But I was right. They didn't notice. They didn't care.

Remus told me to be careful because that shit could really mess me up. James and Sirius were amused – they had doubtlessly done some experimenting of their own – but cautioned me to be more careful while at school; I'd be in real trouble if I turned up in class drunk. Feeling as if the floor was crumbling beneath my feet, I nodded meekly. Sirius, after pounding me on the back and laughing at how I grimaced and wavered on my feet, made the detoxification potion for me, skipping breakfast to ensure it'd be ready before class.

And that was it. I took the potion, remarked on the vile flavor to keep up the pretense of having never tried it before, and it was never mentioned again.

After that, I was careful. I'd cast a silencing charm on myself so as not to risk waking them. In the morning, I'd get up before them, giving myself enough time to clean up and take the potion that'd make the hangover disappear. Night after night this happened and they never caught on. Obviously, I wasn't important enough for them to want to see. As my mum used to say, 'People are only blind if they choose to be.' I'd get the occasional joke about how even when I studied I did badly in my classes but that was all.

That was when my hurt turned to bitterness. Why couldn't they see? When we went on our full moon adventures or spent a day in Hogsmeade, couldn't they see? Couldn't they see that something was different, that something was missing in my eyes? Couldn't they see that I was breaking, that parts of me had already broken? Couldn't they see the pieces falling? Couldn't they see that only pieces of me remained? Was I that insignificant to them?

Not everyone was so blind though. About a year after graduation, one of the girls I occasionally messed around with invited me to a meeting she said I'd have some interest in. I agreed to go with her. To be entirely honest, I thought that by 'meeting' she meant 'party'. What I found at that 'party' was far from what I ever expected. Death Eaters. Two of them. Dressed in dark hoods and cloaks that concealed their features, they spoke to me in low tones, and asked me to join them. I was revolted. All of the murders…the missing people…the tortured and terrorized ones that would turn up babbling unintelligible warnings… No, I would never follow Voldemort, a soulless monster who was causing so much pain and panic for so many people.

Angry, nearly frantic, I refused, fleeing the scene in fear of my life. Death Eaters didn't take no for an answer. They didn't just ask you to follow them and let you go if you refused, especially if you could identify them. While I hadn't gotten a good look at the two men I knew the woman, knew her name, knew where she lived.

I was surprised they'd let me go at all.

Immediately, I went in search of the others. Alone, I was an easy target. With my friends, with the Order of the Phoenix to back me up, we might be able to do something. We could find the girl, capture her maybe, and force her to reveal what she knew about Voldemort's plans. More importantly, they could hide me, keep me safe.

Much to my dismay, none of them were where I thought they'd be. I checked at their jobs but had no luck in locating them. No one was at James' and Lily's flat. When I Apparated to the place that Sirius and Remus shared, I was surprised to find them all there. They were sitting in the living room in complete silence. I remember I didn't stop to think why. I started talking excitedly – still frightened – but they stopped me before I could tell them what had happened.

Quietly, sorrowfully, Sirius explained that Remus' uncle had died of a heart attack. Though I'd only briefly met him, I knew that Remus loved him dearly. To make matters worse, his grandmother and mum had already been killed in a terrible accident near the middle of seventh year. All he had left was his dad, with whom his relationship was quite strained. Other than that, he had no family. I was surprised and saddened at the news. I told him I was sorry and he acknowledged my concern with distant, forlorn eyes. And I _was_ sorry. Somewhere along the line I had grown to realize that Remus was just as human as the rest of us, that his being a werewolf didn't change anything. Despite everything, I still cared about him and the others, still wished them well.

A few minutes after expressing my sympathies, I tried to tell them about the meeting of Death Eaters. Sirius stopped me, saying that whatever it was could wait. I protested, assuring him that it was important, and suddenly he was angry. Abruptly, bitterly, in a voice that was low but deadly, he told me to have some consideration for Remus. Whatever I wanted to say couldn't be more important than the fact that one of my closest friend's uncle had died.

I was furious! Of _course_ it was terrible that Remus' uncle was dead but what I had to say _was_ important. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were the most _important_ thing in the Wizarding World! More than that, my life was in danger! Couldn't they just _listen_ to me? Ever? Did I always have to take second place in _everything_?

God, sometimes I hated them! These people weren't my _friends_. Friends were people you could count on. When had I ever been able to _count_ on them? When Remus wasn't nearing a full moon? When Sirius wasn't fuming about his family? When there was nothing more important going on?

I wanted to leave. I wanted to just get up and leave, but I didn't. I wanted to go and never see them again, but I stayed. I sat there with them, silently seething as people came and offered their condolences. When Remus' dad arrived, informing us that the funeral would be held the following evening, I joined James, Sirius, and Lily in assuring Remus that we would go with him. I even joined James and Lily in offering to spend the night at the flat, if he wanted. He didn't, of course.

Remus was pensive and strong. He always had been. During first year, he shed his share of tears. He woke up screaming several times a month, woke up to find a concerned Sirius hovering over him. After that, though, he discovered something inside himself. Something to fight the fear and pain. And so the crying and nightmares stopped. Things would bother him but he would keep them to himself, deal with them himself. If, for some reason, he did need the presence of a friend – someone to talk to – it was always Sirius and Sirius alone who filled that role.

So while he was grateful for our offer, he assured us that he was okay and that we could go. And so we did. James and Lily returned to their home and I returned to mine. Alone. Alone and terrified. The girl knew where to find me. That meant that the Death Eaters knew where to find me. Surely they would come and eliminate the problem. They didn't come, though. Even though I jumped at every creak and noise, they didn't come. And so the next day, I met the others at the funeral home and stayed for the services and reception. Then I gave Remus my condolences and went home. Alone.

That night I didn't drink and I didn't find some woman to forget myself in. I stayed awake, not only because I was too scared to sleep but also because I was thinking. Thinking and coming to a decision. I would breakaway from the Marauders. I would follow my own path. Find a job. Stop living off of my inheritance. Find new friends. Friends that cared for me as much as I did for them. Why keep investing my time and emotions in people that were causing me to behave so destructively? I didn't _want_ to drink, I didn't _want_ to continue these sexual relationships. I was just trying to find some modicum of comfort, of joy. It wasn't working, though. Just like spending time with James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily, wasn't helping me.

The next morning, I began my search for a job. Dividing my time between turning in applications and being interviewed I tried my best not to fear every shadow and stranger. Despite my terror, I was hopeful. My grades at Hogwarts hadn't been the best but I hadn't done horribly and I knew that, unlike Remus, there were many options open to me. Assuming I survived long enough.

Within a week, I found employment. Not the most prestigious job, not the highest paying job, but a job. The people I worked with were pleasant and though three months later I hadn't formed any real friendships, I was happy. Happy and no longer unduly paranoid. Obviously they weren't going to kill me. If they wanted me dead they never would have allowed me to leave that 'meeting' in the first place. I couldn't quite forget them, though. Why _hadn't_ they killed me? I could only come up with one answer and I did not like it. They wanted something from me.

Most of the time I didn't let myself think about it, just like I didn't let myself think about the increasing number of murders and the ever-growing supporters of Voldemort, people who joined his cause either to gain power or out of fear of refusing. I knew that soon things would escalate, soon the Order and the Death Eaters would face each other in open war. Until then I would remain as uninvolved and unconcerned as possible. It was simply easier, easier than living my life in fear like so many others across the world.

I hadn't seen James, Sirius, or Remus since the funeral. They would write me, wondering where I was, and I would apologize for my distance and blame it on how busy my job kept me. They accepted that. Of course. I didn't think about them much, if I could help it. Yes, I had invested seven years of my life in these people but…enough was enough. It was time to move on.

In all likelihood, things would have continued that way if, one rainy evening, I hadn't sat down to read the Daily Prophet, something I rarely did. It was there that I saw it. An obituary. Much to my surprise, it was for James' dad. The funeral was scheduled for the following day at two in the afternoon. It'd be short notice but wouldn't present a problem at work. I knew my boss would give me the day off.

I would go to the funeral, of course. I had known James for a long time. He hadn't treated me as well as he should have but he was a good person. He'd been close to his dad, too. This was probably hitting him hard and I wanted to be there.

Setting the obituaries aside, I picked up a different section of the newspaper. I was interested in seeing what new news there was on the Death Eaters but a small picture caught my eye. It was of James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus. They were leaving the morgue. James looked…terrible, very distraught. Lily and Sirius were on either side of him. Remus was a few steps behind, his hand on Prongs' shoulder.

The headline of the article was: "Ministry Worker Killed by Death Eaters". The caption for the photo read: "James Potter, accompanied by his wife and lifelong friends, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin." Feeling cold, I read through the piece. It spent the first half talking about the attempted murder of James and Lily by Death Eaters and how they had escaped but tragically, Mr. Potter had not. It was the second half, however, that interested me.

It spoke of how James Potter, star Hogwarts graduate and Auror, had gone to the morgue to identify his dad's body so that his mum wouldn't have to. It also contained a quote where James expressed his deep gratitude towards Lily and "Sirius and Remus, who have been of tremendous support. My best mates came as soon as I called them. I don't think they realize how much easier they've made things for me."

I set the paper down with some difficulty. He hadn't called me. I would have gone with him to the morgue if I had known. He had called _them_ but not me.

In that moment, all the sadness, bitterness, and anger I had felt towards my 'friends' for so many years returned. I tried to stop it. After all, it wasn't as if I should have expected any different. I knew, had first-hand experience with, how little they thought of me. So why did it surprise me? Why did it bother me? After all this time, after everything that had happened, why did it still _hurt_?

And it did hurt. It hurt more than I expected, even more than I understood. Hurt enough so that after the funeral – which I did attend – when I was approached by that girl, the same one who had taken me to the Death Eater meeting, I agreed to talk to her. It was why, after I talked to her, I agreed to go to another meeting. She brought me to the same two people as before. I recognized their voices. As it turned out, the three of them were Voldemort's most trusted agents. When they asked me to give them information in exchange for power and a high position in the new order, I agreed.

At first it was just because I was so…angry. I wanted to teach them a lesson. James, Sirius, even Remus…all of them. They had barely paid me any attention, had taken me for granted for so long, had called me 'thick' so many times that I wanted to show them I was more than what they took me for. When this war was over, when Voldemort eliminated all opposition, they would see me at his side and know… I wasn't stupid. I wasn't slow. I wasn't powerless. And I certainly wasn't useless.

I'd never had anything to contribute to the Marauders. James and Sirius were the creative ones, the ones that could do anything they put their minds to. Remus was the one who thought things through, provided a bit of sense to Prongs' and Padfoot's often reckless pranks. He was the one that made the valuable suggestions that often saved us all from getting caught. I…I was just there.

Now, though… I could do something. I could be someone important. The Death Eaters needed me. Voldemort needed me. _Lord Voldemort_ needed _me_, Peter Pettigrew. I was the only one that could do what they wanted. I was the only one that could give them information on the Potters. I was the only one that was a friend of theirs, that they would allow to get close to them. I was the only one who was invisible enough to spy on them and not get caught, not be suspected.

And why wouldn't they suspect me? For the very same reason I was so bitter. Because I was insignificant compared to their other friends. I was the one that didn't really matter but was expected to be there anyway. Yes, I had drifted away for a while but if I apologized, told them I was sorry I had let work get in the way, I knew that they wouldn't think twice of me always being there again. It would be as if the sixth months of my distance hadn't happened. I _knew_ it would be.

I was right.

They accepted me back into the group without a word of protest or criticism. If, of course, 'accepting' equaled getting delegated to the bottom rung again. It wasn't the same as it had been, though. They didn't joke about my being stupid or slow anymore. What they did do was constantly remind me of how, compared to them, I wasn't much of a wizard.

It came out in the Order of the Phoenix meetings, which I started attending as a means of gathering more information on both the Potters and the resistance. They – Dumbledore included – never even considered sending me on any sort of mission. My magic was too unreliable, too undeveloped. I simply wasn't skilled enough to be of any use.

Or so they thought. The Death Eaters, at least the three that I was dealing with, showed me that wasn't true. They made me feel powerful, important. And I liked it. For the first time in my life, I was essential. I was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and a follower of Voldemort. I was a spy, working right under the noses of the great James Potter and Sirius Black and they didn't even _suspect_ me. At all.

If ever I doubted my actions, Harry's birth cemented my resolve. I rushed to the hospital as soon as I heard that Lily had gone into labor. Even so, it was a relatively quick delivery and I arrived when the Healer was bringing a cleaned and dressed baby back to his mother, father, and anxious friends. James was just taking the child into his arms and showing him off to Sirius and Remus, both of whom were wearing ridiculous grins, when I entered.

Grinning himself, James told Sirius that he was, of course, the child's godfather. Then he reminded Remus that he'd be the godfather of their next baby. We all knew that they were hoping to have a little girl, a little girl who would be their second and last child.

How surprising that Sirius and Remus both rated high enough to deserve that honor but I, who they claimed they cared so much about, didn't. It would have been easier if they weren't still pretending that I was equal in the friendship. Perhaps it would have been easier from the beginning if for the entire seven years at Hogwarts they hadn't treated me so badly while pretending that I was valued the same as everyone else. Of course they _were_ still acting that way and the truly sad thing was that they didn't even realize it. Just as James didn't realize how he had excluded me – again – when he turned and saw me standing in the doorway, watching him, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and little Harry.

No, there was no reason for me to doubt my convictions. James and the lot of them deserved what they were going to get, deserved to lose this war and then realize I'd been working against them for so long without their suspecting. Then they'd know how foolish they'd been for underestimating me.

Then…everything changed. Everything fell apart. I met Voldemort, found out what he wanted. Found out that he wanted the Potters dead. Because they didn't tell me that. They never told me that. I thought they wanted to keep tabs on the Order, wanted to make sure they knew where the Potters were because they were active members of the resistance and powerful wizards besides. I never thought he was going to use my information to kill them.

I was such a fool! How could I have been so naïve? He was killing as many members of the Order as he could. Why else would he ever have wanted information on the Potters? How could I not have thought of that? How could I have let my jealousy and petty anger get in the way of seeing what was so obvious?

James and Sirius were right. I was slow and stupid. I always had been.

There was nothing I could do, though. Voldemort had me. If I tried to back down, if I tried to do anything, he would kill me. More than that, he would torture me. He would concoct a death more heinous than I could imagine. Once you are a Death Eater, there is no going back. Especially not for me. I was the key. I was the only one who could deliver him the Potters.

Suddenly, that didn't make me feel so important.

What was I doing? What had I been doing all this time? How could I have betrayed them? How could I have let unimportant hurt feelings drive me to do something so…unforgivable? What was wrong with me?

So what if they weren't the best of friends. So what if they made me feel like shit, time and time again. They didn't do it on purpose. I knew that all along. They never did it on purpose. They were simply too self-absorbed to realize how they were treating me, how badly they always made me feel.

I didn't want them _dead_. I had _never_ wanted _that_. I still cared about them. They were…they were people I had known for over seven _years_. My God, I didn't want them dead. Not that. Never that.

And then something more horrible happened. James and Lily were going into hiding. _Deep_ into hiding and Sirius, Sirius who was supposed to be their Secret-Keeper did something I never would have thought possible. He convinced them to use me instead. With all the secrecy and running around, I had failed to notice the deterioration of the Marauders. I'd failed to notice that Sirius and Remus, somehow, unbelievably, suspected _each other_. It didn't seem possible to me. James and Sirius were best mates but Sirius and Remus were…something else, something different, something I couldn't define. They were like brothers but not in the same way that James and Sirius were. So how could this have happened? How could it have come to this?

And why? My God, why were they doing this? Why was Sirius doing this to me? Why was he handing me everything I needed to destroy James and Lily? _Why_? Because I _had_ to tell Voldemort. I had to. There was no way I could keep it from him. No way. He would know I was lying, know I was hiding something. He was too powerful, too evil. He would make me tell him. I couldn't try and disappear because he was everywhere, Voldemort's followers were everywhere. I was too much of a coward to die for the information, to take it with me to my grave. There was nothing I could do. Nothing I could do but betray James, Lily, even little Harry, to their deaths.

And I did. I told Voldemort of the change in plans, told him that Sirius wasn't going to be the Secret-Keeper anymore, that I was. Even though it made me that much more important, even though it made me that much more essential to Voldemort's victory, I felt as if I was anything but significant, anything but powerful. I felt as if I was a worthless traitor.

I still do. Sitting here. Waiting. It won't be long now. I told Voldemort where James and Lily are staying. I packed my things and left before Sirius could check up on me. I'm in hiding myself because if Sirius finds me… He'll do what's well within his rights to do. Kill me. Kill me for not having the strength to say no to Voldemort, kill me for killing our friends.

There's still time though. There's still time. I can still save them. All I have to do is find Sirius, confess what I've done. Or, at the very least, warn James and Lily. Tell them to leave, go somewhere else, _anywhere_ else. But I won't. Because they – James and Sirius – will kill me if they find out. I can explain it all I want, tell them why I did it, but they'll kill me all the same. They won't understand. They'll only see the black and white – the lies and betrayal. They'll never see the shades of grey.

I can't blame them for that, though. I'm not even sure I see them myself.

Go, a voice inside me still cries. Go! Go! I can't, another responds. I can't! I can't! Don't you understand? I can't! I can't save them _and_ myself! It's too late for that. Far too late. All I can do is wait and hope that Voldemort succeeds, wait and hate myself for the hoping. It's my only chance for surviving. If he fails, if James, Lily, and Harry somehow escape, then he'll either kill me himself or his followers will. If not them, then James, Sirius, or Remus certainly will. He _has_ to succeed, Voldemort _has_ to succeed. I can't face them if he fails, I can't save myself if he fails. If he fails, I die. One way or the other, sooner or later, I die. And I want to live. It might be a cursed life, full of sorrow and regret and self-loathing but it's still _life_ and I'll take it. I'll take anything over death because I'm a coward. I always was and I always will be.

THE END

Once again, it's not at all what I intended but I wrote it so I thought I might as well post it. It wasn't doing much good just sitting there on my computer. I hope you liked it.


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